No, seriously. I'd f-ing love to know. Today may well have been the worst day of my life. All 40 years. Worse than when my parents each died, worse than any diagnosis day (yes, there have been lots of those); in fact I can't even think of anything comparable. Not a damn thing.
Jordan went completely out of control this morning. There is no other way to describe what happened. Somehow, I had the sense to grab my cell phone and record one minute of his rage episode that went on for at least 30 minutes. I instantly called his psychiatrist's nurse while he was still raging and screaming. I wanted her email address so I could send the clip to her, and have her show the doctor. They have never actually witnessed one of these episodes. While she was getting it to me, she asked "how long has he been doing this?". She heard him...and showed the doctor rather quickly because my phone rang within 5-10 minutes. It was the doctor herself. She said that I needed to take him to a local hospital with a psych department. Hello heartbreak. Hello breakdown. I am very thankful that Kim was here to maintain some sanity, and drive us where we needed to be. I don't know where we'd be without her. So, we packed up, and headed to the hospital. On the way there, I tried to make peace with the idea that I'd be admitting my child into a psych ward. Yeah, that didn't go well. After finally getting him checked in at the emergency department, we were escorted into the mental health area of the emergency room. Tiny rooms, white walls, nothing to look at, a security guard, and screaming patients. One triage nurse, who cried when I showed her the video. One psych resident in charge of the floor. He consulted with the psychiatrist upstairs. I found out their inpatient ward was completely full. They also told me they weren't equipped to handle a case like Jordan, who has autism, mental retardation, OCD, anxiety, depression, Tourette's, and is completely non-verbal. Well, that's f-ing fantastic. The resident and the nurse were trying to find his psychiatrists number, but couldn't. I peeked my head out the door, cleared my throat, got their attention and said, "uh, I have her cell phone number. Will that help?" And then I watched them both pick their jaws up from the floor. So, here we are, eavesdropping on consult number 2. The resident comes back, lets me know that this hospital can't admit him, but they are calling Merck Psychiatric facility in Pittsburgh, who specializes in cases like this one. Yep, eavesdropping on consult number 3. By this time, several hours have gone by, with Jordan and I staring at the boring white walls, listening to the other screaming patients, and sobbing enough tears to flood the entire ward. OK, that last part was just me.
After what seemed like forever, the resident came back to let me know that Merck also had no beds available and they were going to discharge him. I almost threw up. I seriously couldn't believe what I was hearing. They were sending him home. Back the f-ing truck up. We were sent here for a psych eval, obviously his doctor thought it was enough of an emergency, and for what? Not a mother f-ing thing. First thing on my priority list? Try to remain calm. Second thing? Figure out what the hell we were supposed to do now. Third thing? Tell his psychiatrist to stop sending her patients to the hospital. Obviously our backwards town is completely ill-equipped to handle a mental health emergency of this nature. Fourth thing? I haven't even gotten that far...I have no idea where we should turn next. My eyes are nearly swollen shut from crying, my nose is chapped from constantly blowing it, my stomach hurts, I have a migraine, and my heart hurts. I don't know how to help him, and no one else seems to be able to do anything. Or have the room...so for now, I guess I try my best to make sure he remains safe, and hope he doesn't hurt himself too badly. And wait for a bed to become available. And cry some more.
On a side note, one of our cats was diagnosed with a mood disorder (what?!?!) that was causing her to squirt bloody pee all over the furniture due to high stress. Huh. Tell me about it!! So now I get to pill her twice a day, and she shits on me. Every. Single. Time....
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